My work life has taken an odd turn into the classic film Office Space this week, and this Barista is ovah it.
Examples – I have four bosses. FOUR. I love a good reorg that results in less efficiency. My hand to God, I now receive each and every meaningless email five times. Yes, five. First the original email, and then four more come galloping behind it with the all-inclusive stamps FYI, fyi, here you go, F.Y.I.
I received a lengthy voicemail about how my lack of administration has lead to a disruption in administration processing of the administrative benefits that the caller would like administrated formally right now so could I please correct my attention to administrative administration at once….I listened to all thirteen minutes of gibberish to find out the geeked-out caller had the wrong number. Too bad; he had me looking forward to the ensuing legal action he was about to bring down on my administrative head.
Not a wrong number? The dude who phone bombed me at 6:20 am to tell me how much he hates my company. I think I said “right on” and “you’re completely ridiculous” and “do some more drugs but don’t call me ever again” before I hung up on him. Note to readers – I am thinking of starting a whole category called FMB (F&$! My BlackBerry) where you can also share stories about when your work phone rings and interrupts your sleep, boozing or sexy times…
I was not invited to the department cry fest birthday club/farewell party for some uber-important peeps who are just switching offices during the aforementioned reorg. Real tears were shed to see coworkers move down one floor. It’s probably for the best that I did not get that email five times as I cannot handle awkward displays of emotion. But dammit, I was promised a piece of cake and I did not receive my cake!!! This is a definite downgrade from when I first joined Steal Your Soul, Inc. and was told that I could not have the piece of cake with the icing flower on it, as those were given to employees with the most seniority. I should have quit right then knowing that my hard work will never be rewarded with anything more than a piece of cake with gobs of icing. Blue teeth in the office? That’s the mark of the beast power, bitches.
Gotta run – Boss numero uno needs help with a TPS report.